Released

Men jeered as the two people circled each other. The man, whose front teeth had just been punched out of his mouth, shot forward with a punch of his own but the other easily caught his arm and spun it around. The crowd all cheered as a crack shot through the air like a gun shot. Men winced as the man crumpled to the ground. He raised his unbroken arm in surrender and everyone applauding, trying to get to the victor.

“All right, ‘gents,” the innkeeper, Ongar, shouted over the voices. “Not tonight. Maybe some other time.”

“Come on, Ongar,” one of them complained. “Just one drink.”

“Percy’s got work to do,” Ongar said and they all groaned. “Good luck next time. Make sure his arm gets set correctly. You and I have some talking to do,” he growled to Persephone as he pushed her back to the inn.

Persephone shrugged, swiping her hair out of her face.

“You’re the one who said I had to learn to protect myself,” she said.

He shot her a glare. “This ain’t what I was talkin’ about and you know it.”

“Yeah, but I broke his arm! It was great!”

Ongar shook his head with a weary sigh. “What happened this time?”

“He tried to snatch my coin purse,” she answered as they entered the inn through the back door. Ongar immediately started looking her over for injuries as she kept talking. “So, I caught him and told him he’d better think twice before trying it again. Then he tried to grope me, can you believe it!?”

Ongar chuckled. “You’re a beautiful young woman, Percy, I’m afraid I can. Well, you look fine. Go upstairs and get ready for work. We’re delivering the food to the palace today.”

Persephone stared at him. “We?” she repeated.

He smiled. “I’ll be right next to ya, don’t worry.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered but went upstairs anyway.

It had been ten years since Prince Lucian – well, King Lucian now – dropped her off at the inn with nothing but his cloak and a wish of good fortune. He had rented out a room for her, true, but she was always a little bitter. She was even more upset when she saw the same guard that had killed her mother overseeing the coronation. That was the last time she had gone to the palace. She never wanted to go back but Milly was probably ill and couldn’t manage the task.

She combed her hair and looked around her room. It was small but very tidy. She liked having a clean room. It made her feel like she had some control over her life. When she was 13, the little control she had was taken with her mother’s life and she had to learn to fend for herself. She had Ongar but had learned in the palace that you weren’t safe from anyone; even those who promise to protect you.

She changed into one of her warmer dresses and hesitated before closing her wardrobe. In the very back was the king’s cloak. She had kept it all these years for reasons she couldn’t explain. She had tried several times to throw it out but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Despite it all, she still remembered his kindness on the worst day of her life.

Shaking herself out of those memories, Persephone laced up her sturdy boots. She worked hard at the bar to pay for her room and the clothes that Ongar had given her. They once belonged to his deceased wife and he kept telling her not to pay for them but she was stubborn.

After making sure everything was tidy again, she put her hair up and grabbed her cloak. She hurried downstairs and ran smack into Milly. They both stumbled, laughing.

“I heard Ongar had to rescue you,” she said with an arched brow.

Persephone scoffed. “More like he had to rescue the man I was fighting,” she said and Milly laughed. “Why aren’t you going to the castle?”

“Oh! My daughter’s giving birth.”

Persephone’s jaw dropped. “Then what are you doing here!? Go!”

Milly laughed and hurried upstairs. Persephone went to the back and opened a secret compartment in the back of the storage closet. Only Ongar knew about this place and she left it like that. She had three daggers hidden behind the panel. Two went into each boot and the third went into a special sleeve on her right arm. If needed, she just had to make a jerking motion with her arm and the hilt would slide into her palm. It was perfect for sneak attacks that kept her from getting to the daggers in her boots.

“You ready?” Ongar called.

“No,” she huffed, closing the compartment and walking out. “But I don’t have a choice. Good God!” she added when she saw the carts. “What, they don’t have enough of this at the palace!?”

He shrugged, picking up the two handrails of one cart while Persephone took the other. They began the trek up to the palace. It was slower than normal thanks to the carts full of fruits, vegetables, and ale.

“Apparently, he’s got a few dignitaries comin’ out,” he said, grunting as he tried to get a cart wheel over a large rock in the road. “He wants to impress them.”

“That’s an understatement,” she muttered, already starting to sweat from the task of pulling the cart.

This was the first time she had pulled the cart and now she knew why Ongar’s hands were so callused and his muscles so large. People called out to them but the just nodded in response. She was saving her breath for pulling the damn cart. She giggled, though, when she saw the would-be thief coming out of the physician’s building, his arm in a sling. Ongar even laughed as the man scurried away when he caught sight of her.

“Halt,” a guard said, throwing out his chest. “What business do you have at the palace?”

Persephone looked at the carts. “Seriously?” she asked but Ongar shushed her.

“We’re delivering some supplies requested by the king,” he said and the guard nodded before letting them pass. “Percy.”

She rolled her eyes as they were led around the back.

“Come on, Ongar,” she said. “It’s damn obvious what we’re doing here.”

“Yes, but try to be on your best behavior.”

Persephone just wrinkled her nose. A few servants came out to start unloading the carts. She stood to the side, feeling a little anxious. She wondered if any of them would recognize her. It had been ten years, though. A servant asked her to take a basket of fruits and she hesitated.

She picked it up but hovered outside of the door.

“It’s okay, Percy,” Ongar whispered with an encouraging smile.

“If you say so,” she mumbled and walked in.

The kitchen looked exactly the same. People were bustling around to make whatever special meal the king had called for. She set the basket down and wiped her hands on her skirt. She caught sight of the cabinet where she and her mother would stock the flour. After making sure Ongar was busy, she slipped over to it.

She opened it and shook her head. They were still doing it all wrong. She quickly fixed it and nostalgia took over her body. She wandered out of the kitchen, remembering how she would play hide-and-seek with her mother when their shifts were over. They always stayed away from the royals, though in case they made King Bartholomew mad. After his wife was assassinated, he had let his darker side take over.

There were the stairs that she had spent hours making sure each rail twinkled in the light from the candles. And the door to the throne room that she polished so many-

“Ow!”

She went flying back as the door came in contact with her forehead. She grunted when she landed on her butt and someone spluttered apologies.

“I didn’t think anyone would be out here. God. I’m so sorry, ma’am. Here, let me- Wait.”

She let the person help her to feet then gasped quietly. She would know those honey eyes anywhere.

“You look familiar,” the king said slowly, tilting his head a little. “Have we met?”

Of course he doesn’t remember me.

Persephone tried to answer but something had happened to her throat. She probably looked stupid, opening and shutting her mouth, and he frowned in concern.

“Did you hit your head?” he asked and grimaced when he saw the bruise on her forehead.

“No,” she said loudly then blushed, lowering her voice. “I mean, no. I’m sorry your highness. I was just-.”

“Percy! Percy, where’d you go!?”

She jumped. She had completely forgotten about Ongar.

“Er… I should go,” she breathed and did a sloppy curtsy. “Er… bye.”

She ran back to the kitchen, her heart hammering. He had gotten more handsome over the years and it would seem his polite demeanor hadn’t changed. After the cruelty of his father, their kingdom needed a king ruler and they had one in King Lucian.

“Sorry,” Persephone said when she found Ongar in the kitchens. He crossed his arms angrily. “I got distracted.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Come on, let’s get back to the bar. What happened to your head?”

“Probably from the fight this morning,” she lied, covering the bruise with her hand.

“Huh. I don’t remember seein’ it,” he said then shrugged. “Well, let’s get movin’ before the snow starts.”